Update On Me And This Tumblr
Update on me and this tumblr
TL;DR: I am coming back to tumblr but also kind of not really. Also I have no idea how to use this site or what I’m doing I stopped using this account because of I wanted to avoid a flood of bad takes about the Russia-Ukraine War. I thought I won’t come back until the war is over, but I underestimated how long that would take and I suppose by now the flood of takes are over.
I’m still not going to blog politics here; if you want my political opinions I’d be happy to share them on Discord. This blog is for random cool stuff and worldbuilding. Also since I haven’t really been active since June last year there’s probably all sorts of changes to tumblr and to my friends that I’m unaware about. I’d like to know more. Definitely a lot has changed, for both good and bad, in my life since then.
Probably still will be a little inactive in the near future because I’m low on ideas and motivation for worldbuilding.
More Posts from Enbylvania65000 and Others
I haven’t been on this website since June I think. What’s changed? And what the hell is Post+?
Same but I'm terrible at thinking of ways to do this
God i missed you dude but umm, what would you say is your favorite way to add new words to your lexicon? Are you a suffix guy, prefix, infix if you're feeling spicy? Or something else?
For me, the most satisfying coinage is a natural metaphorical extension that I hadn't thought of previously. For example, keligon is "stop" in High Valyrian, and kelinītsos is a pause or a break, but I extended the latter metaphorically to mean "chance" or "opportunity"—a moment when things stop briefly, and you have a chance to do something. Rather than it being your chance, it is your pause: What will you do while things have stopped very briefly, affording you a window of opportunity?
“Is fighting leftist antisemitism really the hill you want to die on?”
Not particularly. But, since that’s where you’re trying to kill me, I’d rather go down swinging.
The only known copy of the Hussie “First Folio” of c. 1625 exists in fragments in the Bodelian Library (MS. Eng. misc. c. 413). No publishing details are available, provenance is unknown.
Prologue:
The uncertain glory of an April day, Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, Limns a youth upon which no name did weigh These thirteen springs. That burden will be one He will take up this morn, and so in this This gentle youth becomes a gentleman, By taking on the name that’s rightfully his - A token that betokes a divine plan. Where others, who did Fate give name at birth Can have no say in what their fortune tells (Whether lives of misery or of mirth), This youth may choose his Heavens, or his Hells. He stands now at the door of childhood’s room, Now Let him learn his name, and learn his doom.
Act 1, scene 1
Voice: Enter name.
Boy: Letters are appearing! As if drawn by Some fiery hand - and now I ken they spell The name “Zoosmell, Lord of Dung”? Fie on this, Fie! A shallow jest - better be the names Of rustics than nobility besmirched.
Voice: Try again.
Boy: More words appear, these pleasing to the eye - I’ll be “John Egbert”, a name for saints and Kings, I trow. Now to take up arms and go, But where among these cakes and bills for rude Entertainments could they be? In this drawer?
Looks in drawer
Boy: No arms. Damn my addled mind: they rest Beneath the cake inside yon magic chest.
Voice: Remove CAKE from MAGIC CHEST
Boy retrieves arms
Boy: No antics or hilarity for now, I must needs store these in my Sylladex. What else lies here? Some Gyves that feign to lock, A Blade that cannot wound, a Hat, a Mask, Tricks to mimic smoke or blood, a Treatise On japes, a Volume on the life of a Man of wisdom who traffick’d in dark arts. All this I fain would take ‘gainst future need, For now mayhaps this smoke will show it’s meed.
Takes smoke pastilles
Boy: Alas! my arms I now can’t bring to hand! This Sylladex is like unto the sack That peddlers use to cart about their wares – And all that they have pack’d must be unlade 'Ere that which they pack’d first will come to light. No matter now: anon I’ll set it right.
Examines bill
Boy: No spirits be as facinerious As these. Though fell be their actions and their Passions run to black, these hell-kites’ exploits Enthrall me and I can’t abjure their charms. How now, a note? My father left this here, A birthday gift to mark my thirteenth year.
I have a book of Celtic mythology at home, can confirm Old Welsh and Old Irish stories are like that.
Old Welsh lit: Dave punched Steve. This incurred a fine of twelve cattle and a nine-inch rod of silver and is known as one of the Three Midly Annoying Blows of the Isle of Britain
Old Irish lit: Dave punched Steve so that the top of his skull came out of his chin, and gore flooded the house, and he drove his fists down the street performing his battle-feats so that the corpses were so numerous there was no room for them to fall down. It was like “the fox among the hens” and “the oncoming tide” and “that time Emily had eight drinks when we all know she should stop at six”
Old English lit: Dave, the hard man, the fierce man, the fist-man, gave Steve such a blow the like has not been seen since the feud between the Hylfings and the Wends. Thus it is rightly said that violence only begets more violence, unless of course it is particularly sicknasty. Amen.
